


Your Ultimate Supporter

by Chokemeplease



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Blackmail, Depression, Despair, I’m a writer pretending to know about art, Lies, M/M, Manipulation, Obsession, Self-Doubt, Self-Harm Imagery, Self-Hatred, Talent swap/change, Ultimate Artists lmao, Unspoken, komahinaweek2020, mindfuckery, noncon, psychopathy, school au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23773063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chokemeplease/pseuds/Chokemeplease
Summary: Hajime was Nagito’s favourite artist.Nothing was allowed to get in the middle of that.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime & Nanami Chiaki, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime/Nanami Chiaki
Comments: 14
Kudos: 153
Collections: KomaHina Week 2020





	Your Ultimate Supporter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HereComesAComment](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HereComesAComment/gifts).



> Thank you Nooty for being such a supportive friend and providing me feedback for the fic! <3 I love you, you work so hard for the komahina server :D 
> 
> Please read all the tags before proceeding any further! This is a dark fic. Please don't read if you're not comfortable with that!

Nagito Komaeda specialized in Avant-Garde art. He made masterpieces without a second thought. Spilling coffee artfully across the canvas by accident? Great. Flicking his paintbrush randomly and getting paint on the canvas _and_ himself? Also great.  
  
Apparently, something about his free-spirited and casual art form was pleasing and aesthetic. They called him talented. They invited him to showcase his art at museums. He won every competition he entered. It paid well, and he had more money than he knew what to do with. It was ridiculously easy.  
  
It came so easily to him, and it was all so _boring_. He didn’t have a passion for anything else, so he didn’t even attempt to forge a new path.  
  
Perhaps that was why his eyes were drawn to Hajime Hinata.   
  
Not quite for his artistic expertise, no.   
  
For a long time, Hajime’s crafts were all soulless, pale imitations of famous works and other artists. It reeked so strongly of mimicry that it was a turn-off for anyone with an experienced eye.   
  
The intense drive and passion to be better, the dedication to the craft had Nagito looking out for Hajime. It was clear Hajime loved art, had strong feelings for art that had him churning out more art pieces than anyone else in their class.  
  
However, he was always falling behind, receiving countless criticism. At the end of each lesson, his piece would be displayed at the bottom display shelf, while Nagito’s stayed on the top row without fail.  
  
The losers and the winners.  
  
The ones without talent and the ones who were considered true artists.   
  
_“What is he known for?”  
  
__“I don’t remember him at all.”  
  
__“Isn’t he that guy? The ultimate try-hard?”  
  
_Insults and jabs were constantly thrown around Hajime behind his back, often loud enough to be heard by the subject of conversation himself. Nagito never felt the need to step in, only eyeing the way Hajime’s fists tightened with interest.   
  
_“I can’t believe he’s from the Hinata family.”  
  
_Born in a family of renowned artists, Hajime Hinata was under heavy pressure to be just as good as they were. His older twin brother had already secured a prestigious art scholarship to France next year, with numerous art competitions under his belt. Every single medal and trophy displayed in their house was his. None of them belonged to Hinata, other than that measly bronze medal he received in elementary school.   
  
Gedai university was his only chance to prove himself. With an entry rate of a measly 0.04% across the nation, it was every artist’s dream. If he managed to make it in, he would finally prove to everyone, including himself, that he was a great artist.   
  
“The theme for this week is ‘Emotions from the heart’,” Their professor said. “It’s a free theme, use whatever tool your heart desires. Class dismissed.”  
  
Emotions, huh?  
  
What did Nagito feel except for apathy and boredom? Ah, there was the curiosity he felt towards Hajime. Would that suffice for the theme? How would one illustrate curiosity? Nagito sat in a daydream as students streamed out. A childlike wonder? Perhaps a view from a child’s eye?   
  
Well, he didn’t have to think too hard. Anything he did was easily approved of.   
  
He was about to leave when he noticed that Hajime was still in his seat. The boy was grabbing fistfuls of his hair, muttering to himself. Ah, he must be brainstorming ideas for the prompt! Hajime worked so hard that he always had multiple pieces that he trashed, unlike Nagito who only had to do things once.   
  
_Good luck, Hajime.  
_

* * *

  
The time for rankings always arrived with each deadline. Nagito knew he would be on the top shelf like always.   
  
However, there was something out of his expectations this time.   
  
Even as the students left, Nagito stood in front of the display shelves, eyeing the one right on the bottom.  
  
Oh.  
  
It was marvellous.  
  
Nagito gasped, staring starstruck at the piece Hajime created. The use of dark colours, the desperation and negativity, it covered the darkness of humanity with such depth of emotions that Nagito never thought was possible. He’d never felt such an emotional pull towards any art piece until now.   
  
He found his fingers ghosting over the canvas, tracing every stroke of the brush, entranced.   
  
“Um, excuse me?”  
  
Nagito turned to see the artist himself standing in the doorway. He looked concerned and wary, dark eye circles shadowing his face.  
  
“That’s my art piece.”  
  
“Oh, I know, Hajime,” Nagito gave a pleasant smile.  
  
“You… know me?” Hajime asked in surprise. Nagito had always been surrounded by others and they hadn't even met each other’s gaze until today. He was sure a talented person like Nagito cared nothing about people like him.   
  
Was Nagito about to laugh at him?  
  
Was Nagito about to destroy his piece like others have done?   
  
“It’s beautiful.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Hajime didn’t believe what he just heard. However, Nagito’s eyes were back on the art piece with a gaze full of admiration.   
  
He never understood how people could be so into art, how his fans would constantly tell him how they were looking forward to his next project. Now he understood.   
  
He really wanted to see what else Hajime could come up with. He wanted to feel that mysterious sensation of awe again.   
  
With a friendly smile, he said, “See you tomorrow in class, Hajime.”

* * *

Other than that interaction they shared, they didn’t speak again for days. The next few pieces Hajime created did not manage to evoke any strong feelings within Nagito, but he held faith in the boy. Usually, artists had dry seasons, didn’t they? Surely Hajime would have a masterpiece again.   
  
He wasn’t disappointed.   
  
The theme this time was ‘People’.   
  
A dark canvas, with a single red eye that stared at you with such anger and intensity it had your breath catching. Rooted to the spot, Nagito was unable to look away. When he tried to look at the piece from different angles, the eye seemed to be forever looking at him.   
  
He shuddered.  
  
The ubiquitous gaze, wasn’t it? Perhaps it was inspired by DaVinci’s Mona Lisa. The same technique was used in Trompe l'Oeil paintings, where a protruding shelf edge seems to move from side to side with the movement of the viewer. It took a certain level of skill to achieve, that much was for certain.  
  
Nagito couldn’t stop pacing, enamoured by how well the effect was done.   
  
The furious eye watched his every move.   
  
The maddening pressure of the human gaze. The inescapable fear under countless expectations. The feeling of being watched no matter what you did, no matter where you went. It was enough to drive a man to insanity. The adrenaline and fear that surged through Nagito from a painting were dizzying, yet his rapid heartbeat was attributed to something else.   
  
To Hajime’s talent.   
  
Oh, he would love to purchase this piece and display it in his room, to have it for himself forever. This was the first time he ever felt such a strong desire to own and monopolize something.   
  
“Hey Hajime, is this piece for sale?”  
  
Hajime flinched, eyeing him with a guarded expression. He seemed to be suspicious of Nagito’s intentions yet again, despite Nagito having nothing but the feelings of a pure fan in the face of their favourite creator.   
  
“How much would you sell it for?” Nagito insisted.   
  
Hajime’s face darkened. With a scowl, he said in a low tone, “If this is an attempt to mock me, to say that no one would buy it…”  
  
“I want to buy it!” Nagito immediately clarified. He smiled cheerfully, hoping it would finally lower Hajime’s guard. “Say, how does a ten thousand sound? Hmm, maybe that’s not enough. How much did people usually pay again...”  
  
Hajime gaped at him.   
  
“Too little? How about a hundred thousand?”   
  
“Are you being serious right now? Stop fucking around with me.”  
  
Nagito hummed thoughtfully. How was he to convince Hajime that he was speaking the truth? He pulled out his wallet, pulling out a blank check. As he wrote down a lump sum, Hajime grabbed his wrist, stopping him.  
  
“Stop it.”  
  
Nagito blinked. The pen paused.   
  
“I really do like your painting, Hajime. Is there no way for you to sell it to me? Also, could you let go? It hurts.”  
  
Hajime let go as though burned. His hand print was stark and red against Nagito’s pale skin. Guilt flashed across his eyes as he watched Nagito massage the mark.   
  
“Ugh. Whatever just take it if you want it!”   
  
“Really? Thank you so much, Hajime!”   
  
A smile blossomed across Nagito’s face. The genuine joy Nagito showed despite all Hajime did and said to him was confusing. Did Nagito honestly like his art? How was that possible? He had never been praised for his art in years.   
  
However as he witnessed how careful Nagito was while picking up his canvas, he started to doubt himself. Nagito had always been an oddball like great artists had been. It wasn’t a surprise if Hajime was unable to comprehend his thoughts and behaviour.  
  
Scoffing derisively at himself, Hajime turned to leave.   
  
“Ah, see you tomorrow, Hajime!”   
  
“...See you.”

* * *

  
Nagito failed to make it to class the next day, despite the words he told Hajime.   
  
He was in bed with a 38-degree fever.   
  
He sighed as his mother fussed over him. He wanted to go to class. He wanted to see what Hajime had created this time.   
  
He snuck out at night, hailing a cab. He got a weird look from the taxi driver, looking as sickly as he was, but he paid it no mind.   
  
With hurried steps, he rushed to their classroom. He had received a copy of the key months ago, as a privilege of being a ‘famous and talented student’. He never needed to use it until he fell in love with Hajime’s art. It was unlocked easily.   
  
Feverishly, he scanned the rows of artwork for Hajime’s. It didn’t take long to find.  
  
His breath caught in his throat once he found it.   
  
It was definitely Hajime’s newfound style.   
  
The background was a fair skin tone, so pale that the veins were stark in comparison. More than that, however, were the multiple scars that crisscrossed roughly to form a single word.   
  
  
**_HELP  
  
  
_**Each illustrated scar was messy and brutal. They were designed to look as if the skin was cut deep with a penknife. Hajime had cut into the layer of the canvas itself, causing a 3D effect. Each stroke of the scar was deep, but appearing to be of different days old. It started with the dried out H and ended with the P that was fresh and bleeding.   
  
It was so raw and visceral that Nagito could feel the pain and desperation behind it. He closed his eyes to savour the feeling.   
  
_Aah, Hajime…  
  
__How do you always manage to make me feel such things?  
  
_He traced the lines, shuddering. He could just imagine how it felt.  
  
His shaking hand grabbing the penknife.  
  
A sharp blade cutting into his own skin, tender skin that gave way with a little resistance.  
  
The pain, the addictive, maddening pain as the beads of blood formed and gathered to a stream, sliding down the forearm to gather at the elbow, dripping down.  
  
The sting of the blade, of the tears, of the heart… What delightful harmony. To mirror the pain you felt within your body, to scream it to the outside world with such a heavy hand… The jagged scars were beautiful, and each told a different story, a different day of pain.   
  
Nagito leaned in to kiss the scars reverently.   
  
He wondered if Hajime had them on his body. Maybe Hajime’s body had a greater masterpiece and was a greater canvas.   
  
He wondered if Hajime would let him see.   
  
_Is there a way for us to become friends?_

* * *

Nagito finally recovered after a week in bed.   
  
When he went back to the art class, however, it was clear there was a new person.  
  
How could he not notice, when she was sitting right next to Hajime, talking to him as the boy flushed lightly? She was clearly distracting him from his art. He seemed to be explaining something to her. Perhaps where the art tools were kept? About the curriculum? Art techniques?  
  
Whatever it was about, Nagito had to make sure she wouldn’t be a bother to Hajime.  
  
“Hey! Are you new? I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” he wore a friendly grin as he greeted her.   
  
She gave him a demure smile. “Yes, I transferred a few days ago. My name is Chiaki Nanami. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please guide me well.”  
  
“Likewise,” he said pleasantly. “I’m Nagito Komaeda. Please ask me if you need any help! Hajime here is a little shy around girls, so he wouldn’t be a very good guide.”  
  
Hajime made a face at him, which quickly melted into an awkward smile when Chiaki giggled at him.   
  
“Oh no, he’s been a great help thus far. I’m very thankful to him.”   
  
Hajime turned redder, coughing lightly.   
  
Nagito’s smile stiffened. This wasn’t going how he had expected.   
  
To think this happened in the week he was gone…   
  
He would have to work extra hard.   
  
“Are you aiming for Gedai university as well?” Nagito asked, hoping to turn the tide of the conversation.   
  
“Yes, I know it’s difficult… But I am aiming for Gedai as well,” she nodded, puffing out at her cheeks with determination as she clenched her fists.   
  
“That makes us all rivals then. However, I don’t see why we can’t be friends. We could give each other feedback and help each other improve, how about that?”   
  
Hajime appeared to be wary of his suggestion, but Chiaki seemed pleasantly surprised.   
  
“Really? I would love that!”  
  
That was that.   
  
They were now all friends. That was pretty easy. 

* * *

“Ah, Hajime, Nagito. You guys are still here?”  
  
Nagito grinned and waved to her, but Hajime only managed a half-smile. Chiaki smiled back, pulling a chair over so she could sit with them. Quietly, they watched a flustered and embarrassed Hajime work on his piece. The tips of his ears had turned red from the attention, and Nagito thought it was adorable.   
  
The sunset outside the window cast the art room with an atmospheric orange glow. Everything was quiet and peaceful as Hajime dipped his paintbrush into the paint bucket to clean it. The murky colours swirled around, blending into a muddy brown.   
  
Hajime coughed lightly to clear his throat.   
  
“I know I’m leagues below the other students, so I have to work extra hard to bridge the gap. It’s kinda uncool, but it’s the hard truth.”   
  
“I think it’s admirable how hard you’re working,” Chiaki said gently, placing a warm hand on his thigh to reassure him.   
  
Hajime felt a sting in his eyes. He quickly blinked the tears away. Everyone had always dismissed or mocked his efforts. Chiaki was the first one to acknowledge him.   
  
“She’s right! Personally, I’m a fan of your pieces,” Nagito said with great enthusiasm.   
  
With how often Nagito had been staying back to watch him work, Hajime felt compelled to believe him now, no matter how unbelievable it felt to have _the_ Nagito Komaeda interested in his work.   
  
“Thanks,” he scratched the back of his head, smiling bashfully.   
  
“No, I should be thanking you for creating these splendid art pieces and giving them to me. They’re all displayed in my room.”   
  
There was a hint of pride and confidence in Hajime now. It was nice to see. Nagito wanted to help Hajime love his own art. He wanted Hajime to see how much his art was worth.   
  
After all, he was Nagito’s one and only favourite artist. 

* * *

For the next assignment, Hajime stopped working in the art room. It had been difficult to catch him since he was being so evasive. The theme this time was Treasure, and Nagito was incredibly interested to see how Hajime would interpret the prompt.   
  
“So? What grand piece are you working on now?”  
  
“It’s a secret!” Hajime insisted, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. He pushed Nagito away, but it had no real strength behind it.   
  
“I’m looking forward to seeing it,” Nagito laughed. He believed the blush was because Hajime was shy about being recognized for his work.   
  
Hajime smiled and said, “Me too.”  
  
Nagito however, really couldn’t wait for the grand reveal.  
  
He found himself sneaking back into the academy at night once more.   
  
He couldn’t help himself. He was just… so excited. He wanted to see Hajime’s new masterpiece, wanted to have all the time in the world to commit it into his memory, to touch it, to feel it, to…  
  
With trembling legs, he walked with bated breath to Hajime’s seat. A cloth covered the mysterious canvas that Hajime had been so determined to hide from them. What would it be this time? If it was Hajime’s ‘Treasure’, could it be Art itself? If so, how would he illustrate it? The anticipation was killing him.   
  
Carefully, he lifted the veil.   
  
…   
  
… 

A portrait of Chiaki smiling.   
  
It was excessively bland and normal and _common_.   
  
He baulked at the sight of it.  
  
The art was _mediocre_ at best. Uninspiring. Portraits were so common and this was nothing like Mona Lisa. This was… this was a boy, drawing a girl he was temporarily enamoured with as a puppy crush. The crush would fade, but the stain on Hajime’s art career and future might not. If he continued down this route, not even Gedai… Nagito couldn’t imagine any art school that would cast a look Hajime’s way.   
  
Even though Hajime had so much potential!  
  
With shaking hands, he covered the portrait again. He did not want to look at it any further. It was disgusting, falling completely short of his expectations. This wouldn’t do.   
  
Hajime’s art changed, and Nagito couldn’t have that.   
  
He had to guide Hajime back onto the right path before he fell into ruin.   
  
He scrolled down his contact list, eyes darkening as he hit the call button. He hadn’t wanted to go so far, but….  
  
**“Hey, I have a favour to ask.”**

* * *

Nagito hummed a merry tune under his breath. He had been so excited about the new day that he had woken up way too early. Skipping slightly, he imagined how Hajime’s art would change with Chiaki out of the picture. Would it be like his previous pieces?  
  
Even better?  
  
He giggled under his breath, hopping over a puddle left from yesterday night’s rain. He stopped to pet every cat he saw, and he stopped to smell the flowers. He felt inspired. The world seemed brighter. It was so much more beautiful to be alive when he had something to look forward to.   
  
He opened the classroom door.  
  
His whistling tune died.   
  
Contrary to his expectations, Chiaki actually showed up to school today. Did she have no sense of shame at all? She sat at her seat in front of a covered canvas, eyes red and sunken. She looked like a ghost, like the one students gossiped about inhabiting the art room.   
  
Either way, she was here, and Nagito wasn’t happy. He couldn’t have Hajime see her.   
  
“Chiaki, could you follow me for a moment?”  
  
She flinched when he took a step closer, visibly collecting herself before attempting for a smile. He gave a friendly smile in return.  
  
Continuing, he said, “I’d like to talk to you. It won’t take long.”   
  
She hesitated.  
  
“In private,” he added, lowering his voice.   
  
Something flashed through her eyes. She looked like she was dissociating. She was no longer meeting his eyes, but she nodded. It didn’t matter if she was looking at him or not. He led her to the empty courtyard, away from prying eyes and ears. There wouldn’t be anyone else this early in the morning.   
  
“What’s going on, Nagito?”   
  
“I don’t know, maybe you can tell me instead,” Nagito said in a mock-innocent tone.   
  
“I… I don’t understand?” she whispered, her voice almost lost to the wind. Now she looked at him, and she looked so, so frightened.   
  
He pulled out his phone, scrolling to his gallery.   
  
He clicked on the video and a high pitched scream was heard. Chiaki paled. The sound of clothes tearing, the sound of crying and begging...  
  
**“Stop! Please, it hurts!”  
  
**“You wouldn’t want Hajime to see you like this, would you?” Nagito frowned. He held the phone out in front of her. She took one glance at the phone and looked away immediately as though burned. She slapped her hands over her mouth. She dry heaved as though she was about to vomit.   
  
Her voice continued to sob and beg in the background, as men laughed.   
  
“H-how…”   
  
She was shaking.   
  
“This video’s been making its way around. I can’t believe a filthy, dirty slut like you was hanging around Hajime,” Nagito scoffed derisively, shaking his head in disbelief. “How can you even come to school after this? Are you stupid? Did they fuck you silly?”   
  
She flinched at his words as though feeling a physical blow.   
  
The wet sounds of flesh on flesh, of screaming and crying, continued to play in the background. She squeezed her hands over her ears, begging for it all to disappear. Nagito had no intention of letting things lie. He held no sympathy for her. She asked for this, being such an eyesore to Hajime’s artistic career.   
  
“Don’t you get it yet, you dumb whore? Transfer schools and leave this place or I’ll show this video to Hajime. You’re disgusting. Get out of our sight.”   
  
He left her in the courtyard.  
  
She never came back to class.  
  
….  
  
“Hajime! Chiaki left a letter for you. She said she was transferring schools again, this time overseas because her father got a great job offer.”  
  
Nagito hummed innocently as Hajime opened the envelope.   
  
He watched as Hajime’s face slowly changed. Confusion, shock, sorrow, shame, loss and grief…   
  
He dropped the letter, a tear sliding down a cheek.  
  
Despair.   
  
“Hajime? What’s wrong? What did she say?”  
  
Oh, but Nagito knew the full contents of the letter.  
  
He had written it himself. He hugged the crying Hajime tightly, soothing the boy by whispering empty reassurances.   
  
Poor thing.  
  
Chiaki had been so disgusted by his portrait of her, she said. She had been praising his art because she pitied his lack of talent. However, to draw a picture of her when they only knew each other for a few weeks, just because she was a _little_ nice to him... He was a creep, a pervert, a stalker. He was disgusting. He was the lowest of the low. She never wanted to see him again.   
  
“It’s okay, Hajime. I’ll be here for you. I’ll always be here for you.”  
  


* * *

  
Once again, it didn’t proceed as he had expected.   
  
Hajime wasn’t creating any longer. Nagito couldn’t have that.   
  
It would be an easy fix, however.   
  
“Hajime, are you alright? I’m worried about you. You can tell me anything, I’ll always be here for you.”   
  
“Nagito…” Hajime sobbed dryly. His tears had long since run out. He had been holed up in his room for days, not attending classes. On the fifth day, Nagito visited him.  
  
The boy was a mess, his hair greasy and unwashed. His floor was littered with tissues and half-eaten food that was rotting. Flies flew about lazily in his room. It seemed like _Hajime_ himself was decaying and wasting away.  
  
Nagito hated how Chiaki was holding Hajime back even when she wasn’t around.  
  
“Shh, drink some water, okay?”  
  
Nagito lifted a glass of water to Hajime’s lips. The boy gulped it down greedily, coughing slightly when Nagito took it away. Oh, poor Hajime. It hurt Nagito to see him this way. He smoothed Hajime’s hair back from his forehead.  
  
“I… Things had been going so well. Why? Why did it end up like this? Why? Why can’t I have _anything?_ ”  
  
For a moment, Hajime had lived in bliss, thinking he finally had the things he wanted. Friends, a potential girlfriend, actually liking his own art and having hope towards the future… now it all seemed so hopeless. He had wanted to confess to her with that portrait. How did things come crashing down so quickly? Was he really so disgusting and useless? Was he doomed to be alone and worthless forever?   
  
“I hate seeing you like this, Hajime,” Nagito murmured. He was wasting away instead of using his talents.   
  
“It’s so hard, Nagito. I’ve lost everything! I don’t deserve anything. I...”  
  
Nagito hugged him tightly, shushing him.  
  
“You still have me, Hajime… You still have art! You’re so talented. If anyone could get into Gedai, it would be you.”  
  
Hajime was so glad he still had Nagito, his one and only friend who still believed in him no matter what. He nodded miserably.  
  
“Thank you Nagito.”  
  
“Why don’t you channel your emotions into your art? Come on, just try it.”  
  
Nagito led Hajime by the hand, pulling along the boy who was in a daze. He sat Hajime in front of a large canvas, where paints were prepared.   
  
Hajime picked up the brush as though possessed.   
  
As dark strokes of black flew across the canvas, Nagito smiled. 

**Author's Note:**

> I entered a very interesting headspace when writing this fic :'D I hope you guys found it interesting! 
> 
> Feel free to follow me on my twitter: https://twitter.com/shigahands


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